


i know people who are flying straight

by thisisnotwhatihadplanned



Series: who I am today (always) [1]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Autism, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Sort of? - Freeform, but also sweet, let's say it together kids! PROJECTION, self hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 18:44:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19340380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisnotwhatihadplanned/pseuds/thisisnotwhatihadplanned
Summary: Tyler is trying to love himself. Josh is there.





	i know people who are flying straight

Tyler knows too much about music. Not really, but that's what Chris had said to him at breakfast, in between bites of waffle crisp. 

How could he know too much about music? It was good for him to know about chord progressions and the different keys he found most interesting, considering he was a pianist. 

He knew what Chris meant. 'Stop talking about this'. But he couldn't help it. Music was its own universe, each chord and melody a different world. There were notes that made his hands ache with- was it joy? He didn't know. But it was good. Few things made a bubble in his chest the way music did. And he knew the bubble would stay there until he popped it. With talking, with jumping, with flicking and flapping the bubble popped. 

The bubble had grown last night; he had figured out that part in a song. The part that built and built. The progression felt the way he did during the rare storms of joy that flooded his body. 

But Chris was not in the mood for it.  
Tyler decided to forget. a large blank spot was inserted into the memories for tuesday. 

By Friday, however, he still had a sour taste in his mouth. His bubble had not popped. It wasn't even there. 

His phone vibrated. 

josh: hey man, what's up?

What was up? Tyler was laying near his bed trying to come up with the bridge of the song that built and built. It was probably going to be called holding on to you. he had to run it by josh first. 

tyler: writing. 

josh: cool. i'm bored. want to come over?

tyler: sure. i'll be there soon. 

-

Josh was the only one home today. 

Tyler was thankful for this, and stepped over the threshold.

"Hey, Josh."  
"Hey, man!"

Tyler followed Josh into the Dun kitchen.

The Dun house reflected the family it belonged to. It was slightly cluttered, children's art and family photos covered the walls. Candles usually burned when Mrs. Dun was home, and Tyler could smell the lingering vanilla scent. It was warm. 

He wanted to see something. 

"Can I?" Tyler gestured to the back door.  
"Yeah dude, you don't need to ask."  
Tyler's cheeks burned at that. They'd been friends for over a year. Was it weird to keep asking things like that? He shook the thoughts away and continued.

Next to the back door there was a bulletin board with a calendar. On the board was Tyler's favorite picture. It was them both in front of the Newport; Josh was giving one of his signature toothy grins. He wasn't looking at the camera though. He was looking at Tyler. 

"That's my favorite picture." Josh was beside him now, seeing what had caught Tyler's attention. 

"Why?" Tyler's stomach started hurting. It wasn't a bad sign though. 

"Uh, I don't know. It was good night. Really good." 

It was a good night. They saw some local band, too small to be mainstream but much larger than them. There, Tyler just existed in the music. Josh did too. He jumped and actually sang along. It was a gift to hear Josh sing, lower and softer than his own voice. It fit Josh perfectly. After the concert they went back to Tyler's house and talked. That was when Tyler confessed that he wanted to sell out the Newport. And Josh confessed he wanted to sell out Madison Square Garden. Tyler couldn't tell if he was being serious or not so he asked. Josh was serious. 

They stood there for a few more seconds, just looking at the photo. Josh looked at Tyler. 

"Jordan and I, we, uh, found our old playstation yesterday. You wanna play?" 

Tyler nodded. 

They headed through the kitchen and down the narrow stairway to Josh's bedroom. It was more like a little apartment than a bedroom, though. There was a couch and tv opposite Josh's bed, and Jordan's bed was across the room. Josh's drums were in the corner. 

Tyler loved the low ceilings and rough carpeting. It made things less scattered, more easily digested by his brain that was always throwing up a mess of sensory imput. He was used to it, but it always hurt. 

At church he could either listen to the music or watch the choir. At Walmart he couldn't do much, period. Here, he could listen to Josh's words and look around his room at the same time. He and Jordan rarely changed things, and tyler's brain appreciated that. It didn't have to take in everything every single time. 

He sat on the floor in front of the tv, rubbing the carpet. His hands tingled. He hummed. This cycle continued a few more times until Josh sat down next to him, handing him a controller. 

The light from the game reflected back on to Josh and Tyler's faces. Pastels swirled with reds and blues on Josh's face, creating an interesting picture. He might say it was beautiful if princess peach's dress wasn't projected clearly on Josh's forehead. 

Josh was the best person to play video games with. He got into it, but he wasn't a sore loser. He also laughed at all Tyler's stupid jokes, but that was an all the time thing. 

By the time Jordan came in, Tyler had beaten Josh five games to three. 

"Hey Tyler, hey Josh."  
"Hey" they both said in unison.  
"Jinx!"  
"Double jinx!" Tyler finally got Josh. 

"That's like, weird sometimes, you know?" Jordan was grinning. "Maybe you spend too much time together." 

Jordan was teasing, judging by the look on his face and the fact that he was almost never serious, but Tyler couldn't help the blushing on his cheeks. It wasn't his fault Josh was kind and the best drummer he knew. And so what if Josh's smiles made him giggle and his bear hugs were more bearable (ha) then most because he squeezed and squeezed, just like he knew Tyler loved. His fingers returned to the carpet. Tyler could tell that his bubble had grown. 

 

"I'm hungry" Josh said through a yawn. He streched, and then "You guys wanna get Taco Bell?" 

"Sure" 

"I can't, J, I've got a shit ton of homework. Bring me back a chalupa?"

"Yeah, okay."

With that, Josh headed for the doorway. 

"Bye guys, nice to see you Tyler." 

Jordan ruffled Tyler's hair, which was ridiculous, because Jordan was shorter and younger than him. Tyler just huffed.

"Nice to see you, too." 

 

-

The strip mall across from Taco Bell had a ladder leaning against its back wall. Tyler and Josh used this to their advantage.  
The breeze was nicer up here, and it was like a two way mirror. No one saw you, but you could see lots of people below. Tyler and Josh were also romantics (Josh would deny); its value also lay in it being a representation of just the two of them against the world. 

Josh looked over at Tyler. He was laying on the concrete, half eaten taco supreme beside him. An arm was draped over his eyes, blocking out the sun. The other hand worked at his hair, twisting a tuft around and around. 

Tyler had been writing. This was great, they needed new stuff, new songs to put on the setlist. And Josh was in love with Tyler's music. The beats were as hypnotic as the man laying next to him. He sees the audiences. They're entranced. Josh knows what that's like. Tyler would weave words together in such a way that Josh could listen forever. 

He wondered why Tyler was so quiet today. Usually he was ready to explain his songs, his ideas, tangents would flutter like his hands so often did through the air as he was explaining. It didn't seem like a bad day. Tyler hadn't done anything that usually caused overload. 

Josh laid beside him. 

They laid like that for a while, Josh inching as close as he dared. What was that noise? Tyler was hiccuping. No. He was crying. His shoulders were oddly shrugging. Josh's chest hurt. 

"Hey, Tyler, you okay?" 

"No." Tyler replied shortly, so Josh thought it best to let him sort things out. But a few seconds later, Tyler wiped his cheeks with the arm that covered his face and sniffled. 

"Sorry. sorry. sorry." Tyler repeated it a few more times. Josh could tell he was getting embarrassed. Stuck. 

"It's fine man, there's nothing to be sorry for." Josh knew he wouldn't believe that but it was all he could think to say. 

"I can't, I can't, I can't do stuff right." Tyler had stopped crying. His hands were clenched into fists, his face pale. Josh knew that look; Tyler was uncomfortable. He needed to do something. He abruptly stood up and reached for Josh's taco wrappers. "I'm gonna throw these away. Trashcan's downstairs." 

Tyler fled. 

He wanted to be home, away from Josh, away from busy roads and strangers that stared and he wanted to be away from himself. That wasn't possible. 

"I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't." 

His fingernails broke the skin on his forearm. Why was he like this? He tried. He tried so hard. Years of practicing conversations with his mom and rehearsing and shoving ugly parts of him down down down down. He still had meltdowns. He still hurt himself. His family still looked at him with pity. He could hear the condescension in their voices. They thought he couldn't. 'Tyler's doing music' his mother would announce. 'Oh how nice! Tyler's in a little band! Who writes the music?'. They never thought he'd say that he did. All they could remember was him at six, seven, eight, when his words were slow and his face blank.

He was hated. He hated himself. 

Josh found Tyler on the sidewalk. He drove him home. Much of that was a blur, Tyler wasn't really there. But Josh was gentle, as always, his voice not rising, his words not pushy or invasive. Josh never ever talked down to Tyler. Ever. Tyler idly wondered if Josh was some kind of angel. 

Josh never said that Tyler was okay. He never monologued about how 'Tyler was fine the way he was' or 'he loved Tyler despite (ugh) his autism.' But he kind of did. Josh was a man of action. In the way he hugged Tyler (tightly), the way he genuinely loved to hear him talk, in the way he never once made fun of Tyler for not getting something, for his flat tone of voice, for looking around the room instead of at Josh, for a million other things beyond Tyler's control. Josh made the bubble in Tyler's chest expand until it was almost painful. But it never was. It was joy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm thinking of making this part of a series. What do you think?


End file.
